Harry Potter After The War
by PhoenixFyre2012
Summary: What happened to Harry between the end of the seventh book and the Epilogue? How did he reach a place where a quiet life was possible for him? Or was it? All of these questions explored here.
1. Chapter 1 The Parting

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, magical beings, methods of transport or other aspects of this wonderful world created by Ms. Rowling. Reviews are most welcome, though only criticism of the useful sort will be taken into consideration when writing future chapters. This story is as much a quest and adventure for me as an author as it is for my readers.

Happy reading!

Chapter One the Parting

Harry, Ron and Hermione turned toward the door. As Harry touched the door, he heard a familiar harsh voice behind him. "Potter!"

Harry turned abruptly. There, next to Dumbledore's portrait, was the unmistakable portrait of Severus Snape, his greasy black hair framing his sallow-skinned face and hooked nose. Snape looked at Harry through his picture, staring into his green eyes with a look Harry had never seen before. "I wanted to say, I must apologize for my misgivings about you. You do possess some of your father's stubborn hotheadedness and mediocrity in potions I daresay, but you have your mother's undying loyalty and love," he said, his face becoming pained as he spoke the last words.

"I don't know what to say sir, only that, I'm sorry too, Professor. You deserve far more than the title of Sir, for which you begged me during our lessons, and I'm sorry I didn't try harder to like you," Harry said, hot tears brimming in his eyes.

Snape gave a little laugh. "Considering the scrutiny I gave you during your first ever potions lesson with me, I should say the task could not have been easy. Past grudges tend to run deep, I am afraid."

Harry, Ron and Hermione slipped back under the Invisibility Cloak and left the Headmaster's office. Harry was pondering when, and how, to restore the Elder Wand to its rightful resting place. With so much loss and injury, he wondered if it might be best to go to the tomb alone. He expressed his thoughts to Ron and Hermione as they walked toward the Great Hall.

"Harry, I don't know," Hermione said. "There might still be Death Eaters, or people who think they can still fight his cause."

"Yeah, well, after what's already happened, who's to say I can't handle that," Harry quipped, a note of steel in his voice. "Besides, I couldn't see any supporters daring to show themselves now that their leader has fallen."

"Do you think someone'll try and take it? I mean c'mon! The thing's unbeatable!" Exclaimed Ron.

"That's why I'm going to perform a ceremony, lay protection over the tomb. I can't reseal it like Fawkes, but I can certainly protect the Wand," Harry said. "Besides, I feel sort of bound to do this, like I was bound to go to the Forest. I think I'll do it tonight. Get the Wand to safety."

"Are you quite sure?" asked Hermione, slightly bewildered.

Harry nodded wearily. "You two go on to the Great Hall. Tell them what you will. I'm going out there to do this. Please, if Professor Flitwick can come, I could use his expertise. I would like to reseal the tomb."

Without another word, Ron and Hermione slipped out from underneath the Cloak and hurried to the Great Hall. Harry continued on through the deserted Entrance Hall, his sense of purpose keeping him from slipping into weariness. He continued through the castle grounds, which had been cleared of injured and dead fighters, and walked around the lake. The surface of the water was still and glassy once more, as though a recent battle had never occurred. Harry reached the marble tomb of his former headmaster and slowed, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak. He felt strange. Was it grief or reverence?

He approached Dumbledore's still form, feeling once more the renewed horrors of the night at the foot of the tower. Slowly, Harry lifted one of Dumbledore's hands and placed the Wand in his folded arms. "I am placing this Deathstick in the care of the one man who could tame it," Harry said quietly to the form before him. "I'm also leaving my anger behind. I know it took a lot for you to carry so much on your shoulders. I just wish you could have trusted me a little more, maybe both of us could have felt more sure of the end of this." He then began to mutter protective enchantments around the Wand and placed a number of concealment charms so that it would not be immediately visible. He knew that Hermione could have done better, probably would have, but he felt responsible for the task, just as he had for burrying Dobby.

He stepped back to gauge the effectiveness of his work. In appearance, Dumbledore looked as though he were sleeping, and the Wand in his arms seemed to be a natural fit. As he contemplated what to do next, Ron, Hermione and Professor Flitwick approached.

"You require assistance, Potter?" Squeaked the little Professor.

"Yes sir. If you can, I would like your assistance in resealing this tomb. I have put additional protections, since it guards the Elder Wand," Harry stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Ah, I see. I will do my best, but I can assure you it will not equal the quality of its original state. If you wish, I may also cast concealments that allow only you to see the true form of the Wand, will that also help?" Asked Professor Flitwick, giving Harry a curious look.

"I believe it will, thank you Professor," said Harry, exhaustion threatening to consume him.

Professor Flitwick began muttering a series of complicated incantations under his breath. As he did so, a shining layer of silver and gold encased Dumbledore's body. Once the protections were complete, Professor Flitwick pointed his wand at the broken marble, which began to reseal itself. He stepped away from the tomb, inspecting his finished work. "I believe I have done my best," he said, giving Harry a respectful nod.

"Thank you so much sir," Harry said. The ceremony completed, they walked back to the castle in silence. It seemed none of them could shake the intense grief and loss that was so palpable in the air. As they approached the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall spotted Harry and called out to him. Looking sideways at Ron and Hermione, he hurried over to her.

"We've set up a private room for you. I can assume that you would like some privacy?" She asked kindly. He nodded wearily.

Waving farewell to Ron and Hermione, he followed her through the damaged castle. "My classroom is at your disposal, Potter. It was not badly damaged in the fray," she informed him as they reached it.

When they entered Professor McGonnagall's classroom, Harry was astonished at the changes that had been made. The damaged walls were plastered with Gryffindor banners and a large Hogwarts coat of arms. The room was transformed into a combined bedroom and study, with a bed and chair at one end and a study desk at another. "I don't know what to say," stammered Harry.

"It was the least we could do. I am sure you'll need your rest and quiet time away from the grief and chaos, so we've fitted you a place. Not to mention—" She winked sideways at him. "We would like to be able to locate you should your services be required.

"Ah, thanks, uh well, I suppose this is goodnight then," Said Harry, turning to examine his bed.

"Goodnight Potter. And do take the Draught Of Dreamless Sleep that Madam Pomfrey left on your table, it will help."

Professor McGonagall swept from the room, closing the door softly behind her. Harry found a pair of freshly laundered pajamas at the foot of his bed and changed. It felt good to be resting after nearly two days of constant activity. The potion which Madam Pomfrey had left for him sat in a goblet on the desk. This time, as he raised it to his lips, he was prepared for the effect and did not go to his bed to finish it. After he had drained the last vestages of potion, taken off his glasses and extinguished the lamps, he crawled into bed. Dreamless oblivion came immediately as a welcome relief.

Harry awoke to find bright sunlight on his face and a tray of food set out on his desk. Kreacher stood near the door, apparently waiting for him to stir. Harry sat up groggily and put on his glasses. He felt extremely well rested, though his entire body ached from having suffered so many falls and knocks during the battle. "Kreacher, what's up? What time is it?" Harry asked.

"It is nearly afternoon, Master Harry. Kreacher asks Master Harry if his friends can come in and see him? They have been waiting outside the door but Kreacher would not let them in," the elf croaked.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. So why have you been so kind lately Kreacher? What do you want?" Harry asked in a slightly amused tone, going to his desk and starting on his food.

"Kreacher wants nothing, Master Harry, but to return to the house of his mistress," Kreacher croaked.

"Yeah, we'll be going back sometime, and I can promise you can have anything you want of the Blacks' that belonged to her," Harry said. "But Kreacher, do you mind serving, or do you want to be free?" Harry asked slowly, thinking about Hermione as he asked.

"Kreacher wants to serve Master Harry, Master Harry gave Kreacher the locket of Master Regulus," Kreacher croaked, stroking the locket.

"You know, you could have that even if you were free," Harry pointed out.

"Kreacher knows, but Kreacher doesn't mind, Kreacher likes having good masters," Kreacher stated simply, giving Harry a little bow.

"All right then. If you're sure. You can go fetch Ron and Hermione then," Harry said, sipping his pumpkin juice.

With a little bow, Kreacher opened the door and Ron and Hermione joined him at the desk. "Blimey, that elf's barking!" Ron exclaimed, helping himself to one of Harry's rolls. "He's been blocking the door all morning and wouldn't let us see you until you woke up!"

"I think it's rather sweet," Hermione said brightly, drawing the curtains aside so that a stream of sunlight flooded the room.

"So Harry, tell us what's up with Snape being on our side anyway?" Ron asked. Hermione gave him a stern look, but Harry shrugged it off.

"Well, he loved my mum, so he changed sides to try to save her life because he knew Voldemort was going to try and kill her, well me actually," Harry said simply.

Ron gaped in surprise. "What d'you mean, Mate?" He asked in astonishment.

"I saw it in the Pensieve. He was in love with her from before they went to Hogwarts, but she didn't like his choice of friends. I guess he didn't like his mum and dad much, so he hooked up with the Death Eaters," Harry explained. He told Ron and Hermione all he knew from the Pensieve and about how Snape had killed Dumbledore on his orders.

"So Dumbledore really did know what he was doing!" Hermione exclaimed, awestruck.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. He lapsed into thoughtful silence. He wasn't sure if he wanted to think about Dumbledore at the moment. His doubts and misgivings pervaded his admiration for him too greatly at the moment.

"So anyway, what're you going to do today Harry?" Ron asked.

"I dunno, I think I'll help repair the castle a bit, give me something to keep busy," Harry sighed, coming out of his reverie.

"Ah, well. I know I'm keeping out of mum's way, she's touchy right now," Ron moaned.

"Yeah, well at least your parents know who you are! I have to go find mine somewhere in Australia! And the worst of it is they won't even know me!" Hermione burst out, tears sliding down her cheeks. Ron put an arm around her, attempting to comfort her.

"I could help you find them," Harry suggested helpfully. He didn't much like the idea of being near all of the grief, especially the Weasley family.

"No, thanks though Harry. I'd better go alone. I need to do some tricky memory repair, and it won't be easy to find them either," Hermione explained firmly.

"No Hermione, if anyone's going, it's me. I can't stand Mum right now, and all this grief is just—" Ron faltered, apparently trying to find the words. He settled with "difficult".

"But what about your family, Ron! They can't have any more loss, and this is dangerous!" Hermione exclaimed, turning away from the two of them in her frustration.

"Yeah, I could go. Nobody would worry about me being lost," Harry said calmly. Then, at a stern look from both of them, he added, "I mean, I don't have parents or siblings who'll be affected, do I?"

"Well, no, but still, I need to do something Harry, I'll go crazy! I couldn't fight those bloody Death Eaters and save Fred! I want to do something dangerous!" Ron exclaimed, pacing the room in frustration.

"All right, I concede! Ron, you can come! Just be careful, and do what I ask, okay?" Hermione quipped exasperatedly.

They began to discuss plans for Ron and Hermione's departure, which would take place that evening. They considered disapparated on the High Street and flying by broom to Australia, since apparating over open sea would be highly risky. However, Harry pointed out that to fall off a broom in the open sea would be just as deadly as attempting to apparate across it.

"So what should we do then?" Asked Hermione, slightly annoyed.

"What about asking Hagrid if you could borrow a thestral," asked Harry.

"No thanks, I think we'll go by ship. I don't like flying on those things," Hermione said with irritation, giving Ron a look that indicated she had made the final decision.

"Ship, really! Won't that take forever?" Ron complained.

"I told you you didn't have to come if you didn't want too," Hermione quipped. "Besides, you know how much I hate flying."

"No, I'm coming. You're not going to a foreign country alone," Ron said emphatically.

Plans were also made about how they might begin to find Hermione's parents once they had reached Australia. Ron suggested showing everyone on the street a picture of the two people, but Hermione pointed out that the muggle community is not as small as the wizarding one. She then suggested that they might contact the muggle authorities and show them a picture of her parents. The authorities may be able to locate the name of Wilkins in a "database" she explained. Harry agreed. Before they left the room for dinner, Hermione gave Harry all of his books and possessions which she had kept in her beaded bag during their journey.

The Great Hall had changed dramatically over the past several hours. The floor had been cleaned to a sparkling shine, and the walls were brightly decorated with the four house colors. Along one wall, tables were set in rows facing a large, bufet-style table piled high with food. On the other side of the room, cots were set up to treat the injured that could not be held in the small school Hospital Wing. As they entered, the talk became hushed as everyone turned to gaze at Harry with wonder and admiration. Mrs Weasley lifted her tear-stained face and gave Harry, Ron and Hermione a wide tremulous smile. Ginny hurried over to Harry, but stopped abruptly and glanced at Ron as if asking for permission. Ron looked sternly at Harry. "You're not going to keep messing her round while I'm gone, are you? I mean, you're done playing hero," he said fiercely.

Harry could not believe what he was hearing. Did Ron really think that what they had been doing for the past year was "playing hero"? Well, if that was his attitude, Harry thought, then it would explain why he left. He gave Ron a look of utter contempt. "Yes, the game's over, I think. And I'll have you know, Ginny knows I left for her, not because I wanted to just mess her round," Harry said coolly, avoiding Ron's eye.

"I didn't mean nothing mate! I mean, I just want my sister to be happy!" Ron exclaimed, hurrying after him. "Look, I'm sorry! Really!"

"What makes you think she wasn't!" Harry fumed.

"I don't know," Ron said, looking defeated.

"Well, whatever. It's nothing," Harry sighed, taking a place beside Ginny and Luna. Harry ate extremely well that night. He did not realize just how much he missed Hogwarts food until he saw the feast laid before them on the food table. There were pork chops, sides of beef and lamb, as well as sumptuous chicken and fish. The hall was nearly silent as everyone ate. It seemed that no one wanted to discuss the happenings of the last few days. Many of the staff were present, though he noticed that Hagrid was missing.

"Reckon he's in the Forest with Grawp?" Harry asked those around him.

"I dunno, maybe. He is fond of that giant," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I suppose so. I was just hoping to see him. You know, say thanks," Harry said quietly.

"I'm sure he'll be in," Ginny chimed in reassuringly.

After dinner, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione walked over to where the rest of the Weasley family sat huddled together. Ron briefly explained his plan to leave with Hermione. Mrs. Weasley became tearful and began to protest, but Mr. Weasley placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Molly dear, they'll be fine. I can assure you, they've been through much more than this," he said calmly.

"But Arthur, they're so young! Don't you think a more experienced official should go? I mean, others could undo a memory modification!" Mrs. Weasley protested.

"Yes they could, but I am sure Hermione would know her parents better than another. Besides, her skill is superb," Mr. Weasley countered.

"But why our Ron!" Mrs. Weasley floundered.

"Well, Ron, could someone else go?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking defeated under his wife's angry glare.

"No, I want to. I don't want to stay here, I'm sorry," Ron stated simply, not meeting his parents' gaze.

"Well, alright, if you must," Mr. Weasley sighed. "Just try to keep in touch please." Mrs. Weasley folded her arms, looking cross, but did not contradict him.

Harry accompanied Ron and Hermione out of the castle grounds and down the High Street to the point where they would be disapparating. They both wore heavy traveling cloaks over sets of old robes which they had procured from Professor McGonagall despite the heat of the night. Hermione was clutching her beaded bag, while Ron held a bulging bag of food from the kitchens.

"I believe we should be able to find a ship that will take us to Australia tonight. If not, then I have enough muggle money to get us a decent room for the night," Hermione stated as she rechecked her packing.

"Take care of my sister Harry, or I'll know who to find," Ron said, giving Harry a wink.

Harry smiled as they turned on the spot and disapparated. As he walked back toward the castle, a sense of relief washed over him. Not only was the war over, but it seemed that he, Ron and Hermione had resumed a semblance of their friendship.


	2. Chapter 2 Rebuilding The Castle

Chapter Two Rebuilding the Castle

The next day dawned clear and sunny, with small white patches of cloud dotting the sky at intervals. When Harry arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, he found that many were celebrating, even those whose families had suffered loss. Festive decorations covered the walls, and brilliantly colored streamers hung from the ceiling. The golden Headmaster's chair had been kept purposefully empty and was adorned with a gold cloth dotted with silver stars, similar to the robes Dumbledore often wore at the start-of-term feast. Many people stared at Harry as he entered, fighting to shake his hand and to get a closer look at their victor. Harry could not quite bring himself to enjoy these moments as he shook hands with so many who had lost at least one family member or close friend during the war. A small, black cloud pervaded his sense of relief, and he could not help thinking that if he had only went to Voldemort sooner, just after he'd destroyed that last Horcrux, he would have saved at least one more life.

Harry pushed these doubts away as he found a seat among the Weasley family, taking a bowl of porridge. Despite the atmosphere of celebration and victory, Harry felt slightly empty, as though he had somehow lost. George turned to Harry and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You did it!" He said enthusiastically.

"No, _we_ did it," Harry corrected dully, doing his best to smile. At that moment, the morning post arrived, and Harry looked up to see a stream of owls headed for his table. They dropped their letters wherever they could find space, some knocking into sugar bowls and juice pitchers as they passed. Harry gazed, open-mouthed, at the many envelopes that seemed to be addressed to him.

"Well, if you weren't famous before, you're definitely famous now!" George said with a little smile. Deftly, Harry began scooping the letters into his bag. He would read them later in the evening, he decided, when he had nothing else to occupy him. It would give him an excuse to leave the celebrations, he decided. After all, what was there for him to celebrate? It was true that he had made it through alive, but at what cost? It seemed that everyone he had ever cared about had died except Ron, Hermione and Hagrid.

Harry did his best to push these dark thoughts back beneath the surface. He could not allow himself to think this way, he told himself, when so many others had faced loss, and still more were healing from injuries. At least he had come out of the battle unharmed. He had saved more lives, he told himself, than had been lost, and that was the most important thing. Harry was determined to find Draco Malfoy and return his Hawthorn wand to him. He had contemplated keeping it as a backup should his Holly and Phoenix-feather wand break again, but he was determined that this should not happen, and he wanted to find Malfoy before he left the castle. He found him with his mother and father in a corner of the Great Hall after breakfast. They were dressed in traveling cloaks and seemed to be preparing to leave. As he approached, Lucius Malfoy glared coldly at him and attempted to usher his wife and son out of the room. Harry waved to Malfoy, who pretended to ignore him. "Malfoy, I want to talk to you!" Harry shouted at his retreating form.

"What, come to gloat about your victory, Potter? Well if it wasn't for my mother you'd never have stood a chance!" Malfoy spat back over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I know that," Harry faltered. "And no, actually. I want to give you what's yours, but if you don't want it, I'll keep it," He retorted.

Malfoy turned abruptly. "What're you talking about Potter?" He demanded fiercely.

"Your wand. Do you want it?" Harry asked.

"You mean the one _you_ stole? You mean to tell me you're actually _giving_ it back? As if it were _yours?"_ Malfoy spat, continuing to glare at Harry malevolently. "What're you playing at, Potter?"

"I don't have anything against you anymore, Malfoy," Harry sighed impatiently. "Take it if you want it. I mean, it _is_ a pretty nice wand, I could keep it."

Malfoy moved forward eagerly. "I want that back Potter!" he demanded fiercely. Harry dropped it at his feet, a trace of amusement crossing his face. Malfoy snatched it up greedily, an excited gleam in his eye.

"So, do I get any thanks for that, Malfoy?" Harry asked casually.

"Yeah, I s'pose, Potter," he said reluctantly, turning away from Harry and pretending to examine the opposite wall with deep interest. "But you know what I've been wondering? Why in the bloody hell did you save my life back in the Room Of Hidden Things? I should have died. I would have done, if you'd been anyone else, I mean a _sane_ wizard."

Harry almost laughed, but restrained himself with great difficulty. Of course, many people had told him he was not a _sane_ wizard. Much of his life was fraught with dangers no _sane_ fully qualified wizard would have faced. He thought of how best to answer Malfoy's surprisingly deep question and composed his face into what he hoped was an unreadable mask. "Because unlike Voldemort-"

Malfoy turned abruptly to glare at Harry and flinched at the name, but Harry continued.

"I have a soul and a heart. I don't get enjoyment from the pain and suffering of others, as I know he did. I may think you're a bully and a prat, but I know you're afraid of the Dark Arts, probably more than the two idiot cronies you called your friends."

Malfoy looked startled for a moment, and then regained his composure and arranged his face into a sneer. "Why would I, one of the followers of the darkest wizard this place ever saw, be afraid of the dark arts!" He asked indignantly.

Harry thought for a moment about what to tell Malfoy. He was not sure he wanted to tell him about the scene he had witnessed in Voldemort's mind where the Muggle Studies teacher had been tortured and killed. He thought for a moment of suggesting to Malfoy that he only joined because he had to live up to the family name, but this might cause Malfoy to become even more resentful toward him, and he did not want to lose this moment of softness. A sudden recollection provided the answer he needed, and he hoped dearly that Malfoy would be satisfied with the simplicity of it. "When me, Ron Hermione, Dean, Luna and Mr. Ollivander were being held prisoner in your cellar, your mum told you that if you couldn't kill, just "leave them outside" and it would be taken care of. You didn't seem very happy then."

"Well, no! I had to do the dirty work while they kept _their_ hands clean," Malfoy spat furiously.

"So you call the torture Bellatrix put Hermione through _clean_ then, d'you?" Harry retorted bitterly, fighting to restrain the rage that boiled to the surface all too often of late.

"Cleaner than killing!" Malfoy shot back, drawing his wand.

Harry brandished his own and muttered a silent full body-bind curse. Malfoy's arms snapped to his sides and he stood frozen, eyes widened in surprise, but looking unafraid. "I will release you only if you agree not to jinx me," Harry said calmly. "If you want to talk about this, I'll talk, but I don't want to fight. There's nothing to fight for, and you really don't want to be in more trouble than I'm sure you already are."

Malfoy blinked his ascent, and Harry lifted the spell. Malfoy stowed his wand with an ere of defeat.

Harry decided to give Malfoy one more recollection that would not cost him his deepest and most painfully vulnerable secret. "What about the bathroom? I know you were crying then? Was that about Dumbledore's death then and you were frustrated because you couldn't figure out how to fix that cabinet? Or maybe you knew you wouldn't be able to kill him?" Harry asked coolly.

Malfoy's face grew hard. "Enough, Potter! I've heard enough lies from you!" He sneered. Then, as if the memory had resurfaced, his face slowly changed. He became anguished, blinking back sudden and uncontrolled tears of emotion. He looked at Harry for a few moments, seeming to struggle with thoughts he could not express. Finally, coming to a decision, he took a tremulous breath and composed his face into an unreadable mask. "How could you face him? I mean, I didn't dare tell Dumbledore that night on the tower, but I couldn't kill the man. I just can't kill! I don't know why, haven't got it in me I s'pose. My father tried to plead with the Dark Lord, but he is not easily persuaded. The Dark Lord threatened me with things-" he shuddered, unable to continue. "But when my whole family got on the wrong side of the Dark Lord, my father didn't dare oppose him further."

Harry thought in silence for a few moments, attempting to process everything that Malfoy had said. Had the man who had protected his son in the last truly pleaded with Voldemort for his safety? Was this, perhaps, why Malfoy had worked so hard to become a Death Eater, to stay alive? Everything about the strange behavior Malfoy often demonstrated during their days at school suddenly seemed to make sense as Harry thought. He decided to stow these questions at the back of his mind—they could wait. "I dunno how I could face him. I guess because I had to. I had loads of help, though, from Dumbledore. I guess by the end I realized if I didn't, more people would die. My friends would have died for nothing. More innocent people would die because they stood in his way, and I figured it'd be because I hadn't finished it. He'd keep looking for me and then I'd die anyway," Harry said dully.

Malfoy turned away, staring at the wall again in deep thought. "Yeah, well, er, thanks Potter," he muttered, walking away.

After a few moments, Harry walked toward the great oak front doors, hoping to take a walk around the lake before assisting the many officials that had remained behind with the repair of the castle. As he approached, he saw the Malfoys ahead of him. On an impulse, he walked beside Narcissa and motioned her aside. She halted briefly, looking sideways at her husband and son.

"I wanted to say, er, thanks for that lie you told in the Forest," Harry muttered.

Narcissa nodded curtly and turned to leave. Abruptly she stopped and turned to face Harry. "Thanks for saving my boy," she said quietly. Then, without another word, she rejoined her family headed out of the castle gates.

Harry walked slowly around the lake, gazing thoughtfully into the rippling water. The last two days felt like a dream. The war could not be over, he thought. Lupin, Tonks, Fred, and Snape, all couldn't have died, could they? And all for him! No, he corrected, to stop Voldemort! Briefly he wished he were with them. Who did he have to live for, he thought. Sirius, his mother, his father, Dumbledore, Snape, all of the adults in the world it seemed that he had trusted most had died, had abandon him. No, he thought furiously, kicking a stone into the water and watching it make small ripples across the surface as he continued his walk, they had not abandon him. He was walking blindly now. His feet seemed to know the path well as they wandered slowly around, but his mind was far away from the beautiful grounds.

"Harry!" A girl shouted, pulling him out of his dark reverie. He stopped, turning to look for the source of the voice. Ginny was walking toward him, her red hair playing in the soft breeze that filled the warm summer air. Harry smiled slightly. Yes, he did have people to live for. Ginny, for one, but Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. The image of Hagrid carrying his limp form when he believed him dead came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. He could almost feel the giant tears washing over him once more, could almost hear the sobs. No, he would not put the poor man through that again.

"Hello Ginny," Harry said, making an attempt at enthusiasm.

"I was just wondering if maybe you'd want to help me and George. We've started on some of the fixing," she asked tentatively.

"Yeah, sure," Harry replied dully, following her back toward the castle.

"What's wrong? You seem, I dunno, different today. Well, these past couple of days, but then we all have been I suppose," Ginny faltered.

Harry shrugged. He was not sure he wanted to share his deep grief with Ginny. He sighed. "It's nothing, I'm just glad this is all over," he muttered. Ginny nodded, giving his arm a comforting pat.

For the remainder of the day, Harry was kept extremely busy with George, Ginny, and a little ministry official on the fifth floor. While Harry, George and the ministry official (called Oscar) summoned, levitated, and repaired a variety of portraits, statues, and pieces of wall, Ginny cleaned blood and grime from every surface. Professor McGonagall supervised and organized the efforts, flitting from place to place to assist where needed and to stop Peeves from wreaking too much havoc. By midday she had become so frustrated with the little poltergeist that her temper flared.

"If you do not make yourself useful, I can promise you I will have you thrown out!" She shouted hoarsely as Peeves threw a box of chalk at a newly cleaned portrait.

He blew a raspberry and zoomed off, reappearing beside George, who began to show him how to have fun being "useful". Harry had even forgotten his grief as he watched Peeves perform a variety of entertaining antics as he helped them repair statues and portraits along the corridor.

At dinner that evening in the Great Hall, Harry sat at a table with George, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Fleur. Charlie had returned to Romania to resume his work with dragons, and Bill had returned to Gringotts to assist in restoring order to the bank. The goblins had been sufficiently basified, it seemed, and were willing to begin exchanging gold as normal. Luna and Xenophilius joined them, having come from the castle grounds. They, among many others, were among those who resided at Hogwarts because their homes had suffered destruction at the hands of the Death Eaters. Chatter of victory parties and celebratory holidays could be heard throughout the hall, and Harry was approached by several people inviting him to their own separate celebrations throughout the week. Harry gave noncommittal answers to all of them, feeling more exhausted than ever.

"I wonder how Ron and Hermione are getting on," Ginny asked conversationally.

Harry shrugged. The truth was, he had not thought about them since they had left the previous evening. "I expect they will have set about finding Hermione's parents," he said.

Ginny nodded, taking a mouthful of soup. Mrs. Weasley looked up from her plate and glanced over at Harry appraisingly.

"How are you, Harry dear?" She asked kindly, attempting a faint smile.

"Fine," Harry replied, not meeting her gaze. He could not help being reminded of how the boggart she had seen rise from the desk at Grimmauld Place had transformed into a dead version of each member of her family. He could not help feeling somehow tainted, like he had caused the death of Fred and George's injury. Ginny seemed to sense his discomfort and made another attempt at light conversation. "So what do you think will become of that Umbridge woman? I mean, she wasn't a Death Eater, but she was working for them," she mused.

Harry shrugged again. "I dunno, I suppose she'll be tried or something," he said, eating a piece of treacle without really tasting it.

Harry decided to avoid the celebrations that evening by attending to the mound of letters awaiting him in his room. Ginny offered to help him, since people would most likely be looking for thanks or supportive responses, but he shook her off, telling her that he would be fine and that she should probably be with her family. He had not had a moment to himself since the morning.

He sat at the study desk and pulled the pile of letters from his bag. The first envelope he read appeared to be addressed in bright gold lettering and was from Dennis Creevey. With a sigh, Harry tore the letter open and began to read:

_Dear Harry,_

_You did it! You finally beat him forever! I heard it from the Daily Prophet as soon as it was all over. I had to explain everything to my parents before they saw my brother, you see. They don't understand how a whole group of people can be at war when the country's not, what with the whole Muggle secrecy thing. Anyway, I'm sending a picture Colin took of the two of you. Do you think you could sign it? I know he would have loved that. Thanks!_

Harry glanced at the letter again, his eyes becoming unfocused as he reread it, recalling everything the Creevey brothers had done. It was not fair, he thought angrily, that someone so young, so foolishly brave, had to die for him, a hero he barely knew. He took the picture from the envelope and examined it. It was just as he remembered it, with Harry grimacing as Colin leaned closer into the frame. He uncorked a bottle of ink and dipped his quill into it. What could he write, he wondered, that would suffice to express how he felt. Finally, after several minutes, he began to write a reply:

_Dennis:_

_Please send my condolences to your parents. I am sure it must be very hard for them to hear this. I am signing the picture. I only wish that I had been able to do this while he was still alive. Kind regards._

He put the letter and signed picture in a fresh envelope and set them aside. He would send them tomorrow morning before breakfast. The next letter Harry read was from Nadia Vance, a cousin of Emmeline Vance, who also wrote to congratulate Harry on his defeat of "He-Who-must-Not-Be-named". With each letter, Harry became increasingly aware of the heavy burden of sorrow each family must be suffering. He sighed, setting aside the remainder of the letters. They could wait until tomorrow. He had written several hasty replies of thanks and condolences by the time the sky had grown fully dark.

Harry pulled the curtains closed and prepared for bed. He felt extremely exhausted after the day's work. As he lay back on the pillows, he thought of Sirius and Lupin. What might they have told him to write to so many whose families had suffered? As he closed his eyes, his last hope was that the next day, he might be able to enjoy the victory celebrations along with the others.

Harry dreamed he was flying about the Hogwarts grounds in search of something. He circled high above the castle, intent on finding it, but it seemed to be evading his vision. Then he was falling, and distant echoes rang in his ears, growing clearer as he fell. A high cold laugh drowned them out. Harry saw Cedric's body materialize below him, and the echoes were replaced by Cedric's last request. As Harry tumbled endlessly, Sirius appeared in the form of a big black dog beside him, and Lupin's echoing voice told him to trust his instincts. All the while, the high cold laugh pierced the air like the cry of a banshee.

Harry awoke with a start. He could feel cold sweat trickling down his brow, and his mouth felt dry. He did not want these nightmares to return. He had fought so desperately to stop dreaming of the graveyard that it seemed incomprehensible for this to be happening.

He attempted to sit up and felt a wave of dizziness consume him. As he slumped back on the pillows, he wondered what could have brought this dream about. A wave of nausea crashed over him and he retched violently. This could not be happening, he thought. He cursed furiously, fighting back another impulse to retch, but failing. Weakened, he allowed exhaustion and pain to consume him.

After several minutes, slow thoughts began to return to him. Vaguely he wished he had someone he could confide in, someone who would understand the absurdity of what seemed to be happening. He thought about writing to Ron and Hermione, but he had never told them about the nightmares that were not connected with Voldemort, and he wondered if they might just pass it off as "normal" or "natural" and tell him to go to Madam Pomfrey for some potion for Dreamless Sleep or nausea. He sighed, looking down at the pile of sick. He did not know if he had the energy to clean it. If only Dobby were here, he thought. Then he remembered Kreacher.

_Crack._ The little elf appeared at his summons, looking slightly annoyed, his hands full of soapy water as though caught in the midst of washing. Harry looked at him apologetically. "Could you get me some water please?" He asked weakly.

Kreacher bowed slightly and produced a little goblet of water. As he approached the bed, he mopped up the sick with a look of contempt. "Look Kreacher, I'm sorry, I just can't," Harry sighed, taking the cup from the little elf.

Kreacher gave Harry a puzzled look as he fetched a bowl and placed it on the floor beside Harry. Harry nodded in thanks. "Listen, Kreacher, don't breathe a word of this to anyone, not even another house elf, ok?" Harry asked frantically, wiping the remainder of the sweat from his face with the edge of his blanket.

Kreacher gave another slight bow and disappeared from the room. Harry felt slightly more refreshed, but still felt weak. What had happened, he wondered, to cause him to feel this way? He felt worse than the time he had seen through the eyes of Voldemort's snake. He longed for someone he could confide in, someone who would be able to explain what was happening. He thought vaguely of Dumbledore, who had been plagued with the death of his sister for decades. Did this mean that he, Harry, would suffer for years because he had been the cause of so many lost lives? No, he told himself, he had not been the cause.

He fought to keep his mind on lighter things. Where were Ron and Hermione, and how were they getting on? He thought of the many nights they had spent camping together while in search of Horcruxes and almost smiled at the recollection of Ron's complaints. He wished he could have his friends with him now, if only to distract him. As dawn seeped through the curtains, he hoped that the next day would be easier so that he might, indeed, enjoy the celebrations as everyone else had been.


End file.
